16. Chapter 16

Chapter sixteen

"A lady values reflection, for wisdom lies in learning from the past and avoiding the repetition of the same mistakes." From The Polite Companion: A Lady’s Guide to Social Grace

“ M ore, Dora. It’s not tight enough.”

Beth gripped the bedpost, her knuckles whitening as her maid tugged on the corset laces. Her breaths grew shallow, her torso bending to the will of the garment.

Yesterday, without the corset, she had moved freely, exposed in ways she hadn’t expected. It had been uncomfortable and glorious, but—not worth the risk.

No. She needed the corset. Once it closed around her waist, it would patch up this—this wound in her chest.

Beth welcomed the structure, the restraint—a familiar armor that concealed as much as it held together.

Her gown from last night still draped over the chair, a silent rebuke, and beside it, the cello—a witness to things left unsaid. She had allowed no one to see her play, to see her laid bare. But he had coaxed her, peeling back fabric and fears. Still, after seeing her bare, he rejected her. She gripped the post tighter, swallowing back the ache in her throat. She needed to leave before he crushed her heart into something unrecognizable.

The satin creaked as the maid pulled, sculpting her into the fashionable silhouette—a narrow waist hinting at fragility even as it demanded resilience.

She would never set it aside again.

A shadow crossed the floor, and Beth looked up to find Julia standing in the doorway, her gaze sweeping over the half-packed bags.

“As you can see, I’m—”

“Thank you, Dora,” Julia interrupted briskly. “We’ll take it from here.”

Dora hesitated, casting Beth a concerned glance before slipping out.

Beth gazed at the carpet. “I’m sorry I didn’t join you for breakfast—”

“Or dinner,” Anne added, a slight frown creasing her brow.

Beth turned away, adjusting the contents of her bag. “I have a train to catch, as you can see, and my toilette is not complete.”

Anne settled onto the edge of the bed, hands folded over her light blue gown. “You’re leaving? And Boyd—”

“Anne,” Julia cut in, moving closer. “If Beth needs to go, she needs to go.” She reached for the stays. “Here, let me help with those laces.”

“No, I think Dora will—”

“Allow me.” Julia’s hands were already on the hooks, her touch firm where Dora’s had been gentle.

“Nice corset. Parisian, I assume?” Julia’s tone was light, her fingers steady.

“It’s the Fleur de Lis model. Dependable.” The kind of armor that kept foolish impulses in check.

Julia clucked her tongue. “Can’t stomach them myself. Too hard to breathe, don’t you think?”

Beth’s grip tightened on the bedpost. “Not everyone has the luxury to go without.”

Their eyes met in the mirror. Beth’s face was pale, ringed with shadows, while Julia’s gaze held a probing intensity.

“Luxury? Or courage?” Julia’s voice was soft but unwavering.

Beth lifted her chin. “I came here, didn’t I?”

“Barely two days, and you’re already leaving?” Julia’s voice was edged with irony.

Anne stepped forward, her hand resting on Beth’s shoulder. “What Julia is trying to say, Beth, is that Boyd can be difficult, but he’s a good man. Truly.”

Beth’s gaze dropped to her packed case, the folded dresses, the satchel only half-filled. The corset squeezed tighter, memories of Boyd pressing against her—his forbidden kisses, his haunted gaze, his secrets.

“I tried, but it wasn’t enough. A lady should know when it’s time to retreat.”

Anne’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “Not everything worth having comes easily, Beth.”

“What would you know? You have the perfect family and—”

“Perfect?” Anne’s tone softened. “To accept Pedro, I had to let go of everything I thought I knew. I learned that love isn’t the stuff of fairy tales. It takes effort. And sometimes, it hurts.”

The corset pinched tighter, its familiar hold now suffocating.

“For women who can’t risk their hearts, a sturdy corset does wonders.” Julia sighed, pulling the strings. “Less chance of bruising.”

Beth’s fingers curled around the bedpost. “I gave him more than I’ve ever given anyone, and it wasn’t enough.” Her voice wavered, unused to such admissions. “A lady should know when to walk away.”

“She’s right, Anne,” Julia said, tightening the laces again. “A bride will need a tougher spirit to deal with Boyd Sandeman. Perhaps Lady Moira will suit him best.”

Beth tried to pull in a breath, but the corset held her too tightly. “I beg your pardon?”

“She’s eighteen and very pretty, I hear.”

Moira... A porcelain-faced beauty at Boyd’s side. A hot, unbidden ache rose beneath her breastbone. Could a lady commit bodily harm to another? Was that even in the book of etiquette? If it weren’t, she would add an entrance. A lady might, under exceptional circumstances, be permitted a single, well-placed shove to remove insipid rivals from her gentleman’s side.

Beth’s jaw tightened. “I trust Boyd will value substance over mere prettiness.”

Julia’s eyes sparkled. “Perhaps. But you won’t be here to see it, will you? Poor Boyd, trapped by a pretty face. Do you think she’ll enjoy his kisses?”

“Julia!” Anne gasped, horrified. “There’s no need to be so harsh.”

Beth’s hand gripped the bedpost, the corset pressing into her ribs as though it were a size too small. She tried to steady her breath, but the restriction felt unbearable, foreign.

“Stop.”

Her voice echoed in the room, quiet but firm.

Julia’s hands stilled, her gaze unreadable in the mirror. “Do you love him, Beth?”

The walls seemed to close in. The confines of the corset restrained her lungs, but it was his absence that stole her breath. Her grip on the post tightened. Flashes of the night before rose to the surface—Boyd’s touch, his voice, the way he’d made her feel whole and free all at once.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I love him.”

Julia nodded. “Then what are you going to do about it? Will you run back to Oporto, hide under layers of lace and steel, or will you stand and fight for the man you love?”

Beth shut her eyes, her heart pounding. Run. It was safer, quieter. But part of her wanted more. To defy the corset, to defy herself, to find that place of moonlight and stars by the river once more.

“Unlace me.”

Julia’s hands froze. “Are you sure?”

Beth met her gaze in the mirror, a small smile playing at her lips despite her racing pulse. “Yes. A lady needs to breathe if she’s to fight for her Highlander.”